Enough
by TheNobodyofaSOLDIER
Summary: [Punk!Levi x Prostitute!Reader] [AU]


[Warning: discusses prostitution and sexual situations but nothing beyond that]

You slid down the cold metallic pole. The music faded, and the stuffy, dark room erupted into cheers, catcalls and whistles. Immediately, you turned a heel and concealed yourself behind the thick curtains as the next performers strutted their way out. The choreographer, the sweet little ginger, Petra Ral, clasped her hands in delight, as your boss naturally looked unimpressed as usual.

"Perfect!" she cheered, grabbing your shoulders with a bright smile. "You performed yet another flawless routine!"

You chuckled and sipped the water from your container. "Thanks a lot. They seemed to like it okay."

Your boss, Oluo Bozado, scoffed and flipped his thick, curled locks . "Of course, they pay money to like it, so they'd better."

Petra rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Knock it off! She did great even without their approval!" She gave him a sharp bat upside the head.

"Hey! I could get you fired for that!"

Smiling at her enthusiasm, you bumped her shoulder with your fist. "If anyone asks for me, let me know," you paused. "So I can tell them to fuck off personally," and ended with a wink.

"No problem!" she chuckled, gently holding your shoulders and leading you backstage, allowing you to cool off.

The brothel was pretty packed tonight, more so than normal even on a Saturday. The air reeked of nicotine, alcohol and body odor. Your eardrums pounded due the bass beating down the speakers resting at each of the corners of the room. Men cheered and ogled at the scantily clad waitresses and dancers tending to every one of their needs. Your nose wrinkled at the disgusting collage of sights and smells.

Damn, there were no words in existence to properly describe your abhorrence for this place. But, after losing your job, wasting your money on a worthless degree and your crappy apartment, what other choice did you have at this point? You were good at what you did, and though quite a few of the whores you worked rivaled you in the size of their tits or the roundness of their asses, they certainly couldn't beat you on the pole. You took what you had and made the most of it. The audience cheered louder for you than anyone else.

Of course, you also possessed the worst attitude of them all. You preferred earning money with your dance skills, not sex. Most offers you rejected and if they persisted, you resorted to spitting or even a punch in the nose. This wasn't always the best idea however. If Oulo caught you, he would rage in your face and force you to repay the client, which usually meant keeping him company twice as long. After any of this shameful encounters, you shuffled back to Petra's apartment, humiliated, plastered and riddled with tears. Not only was she your choreographer, the little red-head befriended you and took you in. She appreciated your spunk and willingness to work. She held you tightly, allowed you to soil her shirt with your tears and pull you back on your feet when things were too much for you to take. Had it not been for Petra, you might have ended up dead somewhere in the gutter years ago.

Regardless of your degrading pride, you plowed through your job. You danced your best. You attended to clients even if your insides screamed in protest, rejecting only out of Oulo's sight. It wasn't ideal but it was better than nothing.

You maneuvered yourself through the crowded space, serving drinks, batting hands that attempted to feel or spank your ass, using every bit of self restraint you contained not to tackle the nearest object and unleash the frustration built by your overstimulation.

"Hey, you," a voice cut through the noise, directed right at you.

You brushed it aside at first.

"Hey, dancer."

Annoyance started to bubble in your gut.

"Hey, you."

With a groan, you pivoted around meeting the pair of icy blue eyes gazing you down.

"What the fuck do you want?" you hissed, half slamming your tray on the bar.

The low, sultry voice belonged to a pale man with sharp features and ebony locks framing his face. Though he wore long sleeves and jeans, they clung to his body enough for you to draw the outline of his muscular frame with your eyes. Multiple, silver loops shimmered along the frame of his ear, including his lobes. A stud was pierced in his nose, and a tattoo in the shape of wings adorned the back of his neck. You had to admit, he wasn't bad on the eyes, but you were too passed your limit to give a damn.

After sipping the last bit of his drink, he turned to you and raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?" he replied. "It too much to say that you did a fucking good job out there?"

You pressed your lips together, lowering your gaze to the floor. "Thanks," when you glanced up, you could see the flaming eyes of your boss, watching your every move. You knew what was coming if you dared turn down his offer, if he made one of course.

Sure enough, the man slid over the right amount of money across the bar over to you. Your heart sunk a little.

Just when you thought you were free to go home after this...

"Follow me," you mumbled, leading him through the crowd, back to your room where you entertained.

With his hands shoved in his pocket, he silently watched you unlock the door.

"I'm Levi, by the way," he finally said, scratching his brow.

"You realize I'm only doing this so I won't get my ass fired," you spat, aggressively.

"What's your name?" he was completely undaunted.

"It's [Name], and did you get what I said?"

"Yeah, I get it," he replied, blankly.

"Don't mess it up in here," you warned, creaking open the entrance to the room. "I keep it clean, and I kick out anyone who so much knocks something over," you paused and narrowed your eyes. "And they don't get there money back."

A small smirk touched his lips as he brushed by you. "If there's anything I hate worse than an idiot, it's a mess."

You found yourself fighting a smile at his comment. He quietly places himself on the love seat, lighting a cigarette and zoning out. You took your spot next to him and waited for his instructions.

"What's it gonna be?" you asked. "Strip tease? A lap dance?" you paused. "Full blown sex?"

After releasing a thin strand of smoke, he held out a white stick to you. "Want one?"

You blinked. "I'm good for now."

He shrugged and returned it to his case. "Fair enough."

For a few, rather dragging minutes, you sat in silence, watching the man take a few more drags, paying you no heed. You couldn't decide how you felt about this; relieved? Concerned? Confused? Maybe an awkward mixture of them all?

Finally, you gathered the courage to ask,

"So, mind telling me why you brought me back here?"

Breathing out one more long strand of smoke, Levi turned back to you. Just his feline eyes were enough to send a blush to your cheeks.

"You looked pissed at all those greasy bastards makin' a grab at you," he finally explained.

You tilted your head. "What?"

"Well, weren't you?"

"Well, yeah but-"

"Then, that's it," he buried the butt of his cigarette in the ashtray. "Just because you're a hooker doesn't mean you don't have shitty days. You looked like you were having a shitty day. Your boss obviously wasn't gonna let you out, so," his voice trailed off as he rested his head against his elbow.

The shock at this hit you like a ton of bricks. You couldn't remember the last tim someone other than Petra went out of their way to do something for you, especially a man.

"It's disgusting here," he continued. "But, some of my stupidass friends bring me here every once in a while. But, I like watching you dance. I never do anything else except watch you."

The shock then seeped into your heart and viciously tugged at your heart strings. You swore your eyes started to sting with tears.

"Well," you said, shyly wrapping a lock of your hair around your finger. "That's the first decent excuse I've heard for coming to this damn place."

A quick breath of air escaped his nose. "Not surprised."

"I mean, unless you can think of anything."

He tapped his lip in thought. "I had a huge erection and needed an image to jerk off to?" he smirked.  
You chuckled at his sarcasm. "I can't get laid anywhere, so I'll pay someone to do it?"

"Fucking morons," he gave you a quick wink before quietly laughing.

As you laughed, you noticed a peculiar feeling, one that you had not felt in ages: relaxation. You relaxed around Levi. You could actually talk to him, be yourself around him.

Damn, you couldn't get attached to a client.

With a short sigh, you lowered your head. "You're the first person who's come here and actually talked to me, instead of groping my ass or whatever..."

He observed you for a minute or two. He then reached over and curved a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Ever so slightly, you shivered. Somehow, even then, he noticed this tiny movement and backed off.

You actually missed his closeness.

With a low grown, he scratched the back of his head. "I-uh...gotta admit. It's pretty fucking hard to watch you dance and go home not wanting to jerk off," he lowered his head. "Shit, that came out wrong...I mean, ugh, you're really good at what you did, but always looked like you were ready to murder someone-no," he suddenly groaned. "Fuck! Why can't I talk!?"

You smiled a little. For someone so strikingly handsome, his failure at eloquence made him endearing. Scooting closer to his side, you rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you saying that even though I was a good performer," you said, cocking your head slightly. "I always looked sad?"

With a scoff, he rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, pretty much."

He nailed it. "Well, I am sad most of the time," as you ducked your head, your hair concealed your face. "I'm paid to have meaningless sex with guys who have no patience. I have no friends, except my choreographer. My boss yells at me all the time," you paused a moment as your throat tightened. "I don't have much hope for the future. Whatever I do, it never feels like enough. All half-assed..."

A long silence hovered in the air for a moment. Suddenly, you inwardly slapped yourself. Why did you just spill all your guts out to someone who was a complete stranger to you? You guessed that he opened a lock, and they came charging out, no control whatsoever.

Way to go, [Name], you thought. Now, he'll probably never come back ever.

To your surprise however, you sensed his cold fingertips lifting your face to meet his. He stared into your face, watching every little twitch, the tears already producing in your eyes.

Though completely expressionless, his touch was just enough to speak volumes.

He continued this silent conversation by kissing you softly, his free hand resting gingerly at your hip. His lips slowly embracing yours, he traced your mouth with the tip of his tongue, easing it open. You mewled just a little but allowed its entrance. With broken moans, he deepened the kiss, cradling your head gently, pressing your back into the soft velvety couch. You couldn't decide whether or not you wanted this to escalate any further, but you loved his touch, the way he handled you, making sure you enjoyed this as much as he. To say the least, it was perfect.

When your lungs finally screamed for air, Levi parted from you, breathing heavy, checking your face, making sure you were okay. He was taken aback to find droplets mixed with mascara and eyeliner leaving streaks down your face.

"Ah, fuck," he tried to pull away. "I fucked up. I'm so sorry-"

"N-no!" you grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back to you. "I just...shit, I don't want you to leave."

He widened his eyes at your comment. But, as you sobbed quietly in the crook of his neck, he tightened his arms and held you close.

His heart pounded the fine bones of his ribs for you.

So, Levi stayed with you that evening in your corridors filled with the stench of cheap perfume and alcohol. He made tender love to you that night; not fucking, not dirty dancing, not any of the cheap tricks you utilized to satisfy the needs of your horny customers. No, he worshiped you with his mouth. He pleased you with his body. He made sure you felt just as good as he did, and you did. When you finished, he locked the door to your room and held you protectively in his arms as if to shield you from all the terrible things you faced.

One kiss would have been enough, but you got so much more out of it.


End file.
